100 Written Words
by SolarEllipse
Summary: 100 Written prompts challenge, based around the characters and events of Transformers: Prime. From war to peace, and everything in-between. Mostly a series of one-shots. Currently: Prompts 1-60.
1. Prompts 1-5

Starting posting these a while back on my Tumblr account. I've decided to post them here as well, so that I can actually keep them organized.  
>I started writing these a looooonnng time ago (two years ago to be exact), and since I'm no longing using them as extra school credit, I can finally upload them.<p>

It's a good writing exercise.

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><p><strong><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>****From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 1-5:**

**WAR  
><strong>The war had started everything. It had caused everything. It was the reason for all that had previously happened, and for what was to come. The pain, suffering, and deaths of millions were only the beginning, the mere scraping of the surface. The near extinction of their race, their people divided into two completely different ideologies, each fraction warring with another until there was nothing left. The complete devastation of their home world, and the fact it could no longer support any life. All it had taken was the simple question of a title, to light the first match for the fire.

Now, as Optimus reflected back on the war, he realized he was one of the causes of it.

**IMPOSSIBLE  
><strong>"Oh come on, Wheeljack! You promised!"

The ex-Wrecker sighed for what he believed to be the tenth time in the last half hour. Any friend of Bulkhead's was a friend of his own, and when the green Wrecker had ushered him into meeting his new partner, Wheeljack couldn't have been happier. The prospect of this new partner being a small human child had left him skeptical at first, but he had to admit, the child had grown on him over time. But Primus, was she impossible.

"Listen, kid, if Bulkhead ever got the slightest wind that I was teachin' you to fight, he'd haul me up and kill me faster than –"

"But that's the point; he's not going to find out!" Miko held up the wooden katanas in her hands and pouted. "Besides, I went through a lot of trouble to get these fragging things!"

"…And he's gonna kill me for teachin' you that kind of language too." Another sigh and Wheeljack finally gave in, unsheathing his blades. "Alright, fine, but only this one time and that's it."

He winced when she squealed in delight.

**PLANET  
><strong>Upon immediate arrival on Earth, Soundwave had sent many of the Drones to scour its surface, scouting their new territory for possible information and resources. They complied, of course, without question – however, the nature and culture of the planet spread amongst them like wildfire, and so naturally, they in turn had many unvoiced questions. Why were there so many driving laws and regulations when half of their population didn't even abide by them? How did sporting matches end cleanly, without an opponent being terminated? What was the point of having smaller squishies if all they did was make noise and flop around uselessly?

Then Megatron had left, and they found their freedom had suddenly risen from how limited it once had been. The planet's culture varied from location to location they learned, as more returned from missions with images and tales of the areas they scouted. Some took up the role of trying to explain what they'd seen, with hushed voices in small groups during the late night hours. They cared little of the humans, but their customs both intrigued and baffled them. With ease they found the signals that gave then access to what humans called _'cable television'_, a source of entertainment that played over the monitors when their lieutenants weren't around. They found games and music, hobbies and art, all things that were so different from Cybertron, and yet things they still never had the luxury of having.

And then Megatron returned after his three year departure, and things automatically shifted back to their original normalities.

**THUNDER  
><strong>The storm had rolled in faster than expected, and soon, both Smokescreen and Bumblebee found themselves caught in a downpour. Truthfully, Smokescreen didn't mind all that much, happy to see the variation in the planet's climate – despite Ratchet's numerous complaints that had first clouded his judgement.

It was so unlike that of his home. On Cybertron, a storm usually meant acid rain followed, leaving one to seek shelter as fast as possible. Rain on this planet was different; cold as it hit his frame, rolling off his plating in droplets. It didn't even sting, nor burn through in large amounts. It was…gentle, almost, washing him as it fell. And Primus was thunder loud! He felt it travel down to the very core of his being, rumbling as it roared around them. The strips of lightning streaking across the darkened sky as the storm carried on.

Thankfully, Bumblebee didn't mind his sudden stop of awe, and was quite content to sit with him in the rain, telling him of stories of when they'd first encountered the watery substance.

**CHANCE  
><strong>Victory was never left to luck or chance. Victory was crafted from skill and talent, desire and ambition. The Decepticon Warlord had learned that in the darkest dwells of Kaon's Pits, as opponents fell to his hands. This was no different.

The beast that faced him now lacked passion, it lacked drive. The Insecticon was missing the ambition that its master had gone insane with. It was merely a pawn for Airachnid's own goals, and only shared her need for the coup because of the sudden shift in mental control. Its desire for conquest was not its own – it was hers, and therefore the Insecticon would fall like the countless others that had stood before him. As it always was, victory was his, and Megatron promptly tore the creature's arms from its frame.

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	2. Prompts 6-10

Have some seasonally themed ones. I can't believe how quickly we got snow this year.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 6-10:**

**CHILL  
><strong>Cybertron had never been this cold. At least, not in any of the cities Soundwave had ever bothered to visit. He found it interesting, however, to see how different this planet was from his own. How the substance of snow could form under low temperatures, and quickly blanket the land in a glistening white. He looked down, idly amused how stark his colours were against the icy crystals, how badly he stood out against the white. His frame suddenly shook with a shudder, and he paused.

Back home, a slight chill in the temperature had never bothered him. He'd sometimes welcomed it as a comforting reminder of his continued survival in the pits. Laserbeak suddenly shifted, snuggling in closer to his frame to combat the cold. Soundwave silently mused that the annoyance of the cold was due to the remaining number of his symbiotes.

**SNOWY  
><strong>It never snowed in Nevada, or at least, that's what Raf had told him. After hearing Miko's excited chatter over the prospect of snow during the winter months, Bumblebee wanted to see it for himself. Cold, but fun, she'd explained.

Jack had said he'd seen snow once before, when visiting the mountainous regions of the state, but that it never reached the lowlands. Miko commented how it didn't snow too often in Tokyo either, but that things always got exciting when it did. Her enthusiasm as she retold of winters in the past caused Bumblebee to secretly wish for a snowfall. Ratchet piped in to remind them that their base was located in a desert – snow would never come.

Defeated, Miko backed down, only for Bumblebee to get an idea. Over the week, he dropped hints to Raf to have his and the others' winter gear packed, while he figured out the rest. It would be a surprise. A wonderful surprise, he hoped. He'd found out that the country north of them was notorious for the cold, and at last, with Optimus' permission, Bumblebee bridged the four of them to a short, snowy retreat.

**ALIVE  
><strong>It was dark, and it felt as if the frigid ice around him would swallow him whole. Then again, Dreadwing realized, it _already had._ He fought, struggled, and shifted through the encompassing cold, trying to reach his way to the surface. With a ton of snow weighing down upon him, Dreadwing could feel the frost seeping into the thinnest parts of his armour. He'd only been trapped for a mere number of minutes, and his wings were already numb. Or at least he'd assumed it'd been only a few minutes?

At last there was colour instead of a blinding whiteness, flecks of the planet's blue sky appearing above him. Gasping, he finally broke free, stumbling as he pulled himself from the snow bank and onto more solid ground. His vents burned as the snow melted from them, chunks of the substance still compacted in the seams of his armour – but he was otherwise uninjured and obviously still alive.

Prime. Dreadwing growled, the rumble of his engines heating his frozen systems. Prime had proved to be a worthier adversary than he'd originally expected, and the possibility of losing to him was aggravating. Both of them would be dealt with, both Prime and the traitor would pay. Dreadwing would make sure of that. Without a second thought, he steadied himself, and then took off towards the skies.

**WARMTH  
><strong>Predaking swore his new subjects were younglings. Brethren? Comrades? He wasn't sure what to call them anymore – he was hardly a King when he only had two subjects at his command. And the two were too busy fighting or gawking at each other half the time to pay attention to a word he said. Skylynx and Darksteel were ill-mannered, ill-tempered, and both behaved like younglings. And Predaking had no idea what to do with them.

When he'd first discovered there were more of his kind still alive, and on Cybertron no less, he'd been expecting – well, he'd been expecting more than just the simple two he'd found. Predaking had been expecting a lot more. Instead, he'd gotten these two, two of his own kind that were too distracted to fight properly. It had been an easy battle for dominance.

He wasn't sure why he kept them around either, as he found them to be more trouble than they were worth dealing with. He wasn't sure why they stuck around either, as they showed little care for his company. Yet despite such, on cold nights he'd more than often wake up finding the two of them recharging on either side of him, bundled up under his massive wing span. For warmth, he supposed. Younglings, they were. Ill-mannered, ill-tempered younglings.

**GIFT  
><strong>"I don't understand…" The Autobot commander looked to the child in confusion. "What is this?"

"It's a Christmas present." Rafael clarified, as if nothing was amiss.

Ultra Magnus merely blinked. "I don't understand."

"Oh, Christmas?" The child replied with a smile, "It's a kind of holiday, a celebration of sorts. People get together and exchange gifts. There's a whole lot more to it, but that's the basics."

"And the tree and lights are a part of it?"

Raf turned to the massive pine at the side of the silo, thickly covered in rings of bulbs, decorations and glowing lights. It had been Miko's idea in the first place, but Bumblebee and Smokescreen had outdone themselves. The boy proceeded to nod, "It's a part of the celebration, a decoration of sorts. The presents go under the tree."

Ultra Magnus looked back to the gift in his palm, processing the information. The gift was uneven, badly wrapped, and much to his dismay, incredibly asymmetrical. Yet, it still held a certain charm, a certain shine wrapped under red ribbon. He began to tear the package open with the tip of a forefinger.

"No! Wait!" Again, the Autobot Commander was confused, "Not yet! You have to wait until it's Christmas!"

"But you just said –"

"The twenty-fifth! Three more days. You have to wait until then."

Ultra Magnus was growing impatient. "And you said this was supposed to boost morale?"

It was the child's turn to blink. "Erm, well yes, I suppose it would."

The Commander pondered momentarily, and then moved to place the gift under the tree. "Then the festivities will continue in three days' time."

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><p>Happy (early) holidays everyone! :)<p>

Reviews are always greatly appreciated.


	3. Prompts 11-15

Geez, does the time fly. 2014 almost over and done with. Let's hope 2015 proves to be more worthwhile.

Happy New Year everyone!

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 11-15:**

**STAIN  
><strong>Humans were such flimsy creatures, easy to break and easy to rip apart. Their outer armour shells were so worthless and thin that Airachnid found a single touch of her claws could pierce through with only the slightest amount of pressure. Truly, they were a waste of her time, easy prey that lacked any source of challenge. _But oh, were they fun to play with!_

She enjoyed their cries, despite the disgusting fluid that often fell from their optics as they begged for mercy. She liked the sounds they made when they died, the hiss and gurgle that climbed up their throats as their screams and pleas failed them. Unlike the other forms of organic life that she had previously encountered, Airachnid found she delighted in their remains and the red stain they always left behind. It was such a pretty colour, red – not the bright, luminescent blue of spilt energon, but a deep and vivid scarlet. Even dead, Airachnid found they brought some form of amusement, strung up like marionette decorations on the walls with that beautiful red pooling beneath them.

**FIND  
><strong>Three years of no action was something Cliffjumper was getting tired of. He spent most of his hours either scouting or resting, and after millions of years worth of war, it felt good to sit back and do nothing for once. But Cliffjumper found he was getting restless, anxious – and the fact that 'Cons could be looming over them at any given moment wasn't helping either. He was used to fighting, throwing himself into battle and giving his enemies the _'horns'_ as he liked to call it. It was a routine, not one he always enjoyed, but a routine none the less. Now – well, now Cliffjumper was bored. The 'Cons had decided to lay low for the last three years and that meant no excitement.

The only way, Cliffjumper found, to get rid of that restless ache was to take a good, long drive. A good couple of miles out on the open road released all the pent up tension within him. He liked the open space this planet offered, the curves and bends of the paved roads and the gravel crust of unfinished ones. Here, in this lonesome desert, you could drive without reason, explore and find something stunning without really meaning to.

And what, would you look at that: the Decepticons had just popped up on his radar.

**JUDGEMENT  
><strong>While Dreadwing had doubts about his leader's judgement, he did not voice them. He knew better. Even when his leader's tactical strategies included returning to Cybertron and ripping the arm off of a dead Prime. Even so, Megatron's new plan struck him as being immensely wrong. Dreadwing was no grave robber, and while he understood that the outcome of their actions could provide major advantages for them in the war, he could not condone his or his leader's actions. Trespassing upon the resting grounds of the dead did not sit well with him – especially desecrating the tomb and corpse of a Prime. For a reason he could not define, it unnerved him when most things could not.

He had fought through almost a lifetime of war, watched his home fall and decay, felt his own brother perish, and yet this small action weighed heavily on his mind. Even as a Decepticon, Dreadwing believed that once joined with the Well of Allsparks, one had rightfully gained an opportunity to rest. It was an ill omen to disturb such rest – especially that of a Prime. He shuddered to think. In the Well, was the dead Prime now running around, suddenly searching for the lost arm he would never find?

He wondered how the current Prime would react to seeing Megatron's new conquest. Would the line of Primes, present and past, seek havoc upon them for their actions? Dreadwing sincerely hoped not.

**PRESENCE  
><strong>Peace and quiet were rare around the silo, with all that went on in the run of a day. The missions from time to time were expected, so was the occasional injury – the Decepticons were never known to show mercy. It was the children Ratchet had trouble dealing with. Constantly chattering and making unnecessary noise – not to mention the grating shriek Miko called music!

They always seemed to be around as well, coming directly from their schooling to join them in the base. Ratchet was too busy worrying about energon rations to care about the trivialities of the children's daily lives. Yet, the others seemed content enough to have their presence around, and Ratchet could understand why. Small talk made things seem better than they were, and he supposed it was an easier way to keep one's mind off of the war. Ratchet just didn't understand why they had to be around _all_ the time. Nor did he understand why their lack of presence suddenly made the base's silence at night so unnerving.

**TAINTED  
><strong>He wondered how he hadn't noticed it until now. Of course, it was a simple thing really, a small issue that hadn't caught his attention until he'd actually checked for it. Now there it was, a screen of toxicity played out on the med bay's monitors.

The matter had never really concerned him in the first place, he supposed, not until he had taken a cube of energon from someone else's rations. Knock Out hadn't meant to of course, but exhausted after the day's events, he hadn't paid much mind to who's cube he had grabbed while down in storage. Dragging himself back to his quarters, all thoughts of a peaceful evening had been broken once he'd sat down and taken of sip of the cube. What had touched his glossa had almost left him gagging; an undertone of bitterness, an aftertaste of staleness that was almost revolting. Low-grade energon was never meant to carry such a distinct aroma, and he knew from experience that it was not high-grade. Somewhere amongst a haze of drowsiness, Knock Out decided to filter what was left in the cube.

The next morning, the results beeped onto his HUD, jolting him from recharge. What he found confused him even further; the energon was tainted, a level of toxicity high enough to be faintly detected. It was a small dose, but taken over a period of time would potentially prove fatal – which begged the question; who was drugging who?

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	4. Prompts 16-20

First set of 2015. Jeez, does the time fly - this show's been over for a long while now (and when you think about the fact that I started writing these long _before_ the show had even ended...).

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 16-20:**

**SPACE  
><strong>Jack was a teenager, and what Arcee could comprehend from this was that mood swings, a hint of unspoken rebelliousness, and sudden hormonal urges were all normal for a human his age. She understood he needed his own space. Of course, none of this meant she was any more lenient when he decided to throw his lunch at the vehicle that had tried to cut them off.

"Jack."

"He was driving on the wrong side of the road and didn't have his indicator on."

"Jack."

"He was one of Vince's friends."

_"__Jack."_

"I hate salads."

Arcee adjusted her rear view mirrors, watching as the vehicle pulled in behind them. There wasn't any driver. "Jack, I'm restricting your driving privileges for the next two weeks."

**BLURRY  
><strong>Bumblebee knew he'd been more or less raised by Optimus and the others. He hadn't seen the golden age, and he remembered very little of the early stages of the war. What he could remember from those times had mulled and fused together, and the only blurry memories that came to mind were of seeking shelter and scavenging for energon. Eventually someone found him – thankfully an Autobot, for Bumblebee now understood what may have happened had it been a Decepticon that had stumbled upon him – and his training as a scout had practically begun.

And things happened. Faces and people he remembered had disappeared as time went on, and even now, he didn't know the whereabouts of some of the friends he could've called his mentors. On Earth, Arcee had helped to hone his abilities as a scout, helping him to learn a few extra tricks to keep on edge on the battlefield. Bulkhead had taught him how to have fun, and also taught him a thing or two about watching his back. And Optimus and Ratchet had been there for him for as long as he could remember.

And so when Rafael spoke on the subject of family, Bumblebee understood the concept immediately.

**NIGHT  
><strong>At one point in time, Starscream had had the ambition to travel to every star in the universe. Every planet was fair game, and his desire to reach them knew no bounds. He dreamt it, sometimes waking with the thoughts of stardust on his glossa. He swore he could almost taste it. Starscream wanted to see every world for what it was, its strengths and weaknesses, perfections and defects. He wanted to find the life that the Academies so often scoffed of not existing, and in his idealistic mind, prove them wrong. Perhaps, he thought now, the notion of escaping Cybertron's oppressive restraints seemed too good to be true.

The night skies here showed all the same stars, and he could still map them as easily as he did back then. Some had changed; celestial coordinates shifted or simply disappeared; only now he wasn't gazing at them from the comfort of a balcony ledge. Now, he was staring up at them from under the ledge of a broken under hanging of an enormous boulder, escaping the frozen rain that poured down.

In a move of twisted irony, Starscream had gotten his wish. Here he was, far off on another planet, far from Cybertron and its past trivialities. He'd found other life; the fleshlings that plagued this mudball's beauty – and the planet had little to begin with. Now, now all he wanted was to go home.

**INTRIGUE  
><strong>Even though he knew Knock Out would kill him for having such thoughts, Breakdown had to admit: the spider intrigued him. He wanted to know how she worked, what made her tick. How a femme her size could almost match his strength. How those spiny little extra legs of hers could tear through almost any armour. There was something about her that kept him coming back for more, even when he knew he shouldn't.

It was a dangerous game. The little smirks she would send his way now and then, turning to absolute devilry and rage the next. Knock Out warned him countless times to stay away, and while he tried to listen, wanted to listen, something wouldn't let him. It all came back down to the spider.

Soon enough, Breakdown learned just what those legs could really pierce through.

**DISADVANTAGE  
><strong>Ultra Magnus knew he was at a disadvantage when it came to the dominate species of their newfound home. Humans were strange creatures, their cultural norms sometimes so backwards and inefficient that he wondered how their societies ever made progress. The language these humans spoke was vexing, sometimes irritating his vocalizer with its harsh syllables – not to mention the troubles of pronunciation as a whole.

Yet the others seemed to do just fine, integrating easily in the affairs of their smaller allies. They had little to no trouble assimilating themselves into the world of their hosts, and he quietly couldn't understand how they had done so in such a short period of time. Six months for him alone, and basic conversations between the children still left him puzzled every now and again. Of course, the others had spent much more time around the humans than he had – years more to be precise, and as the war was finally drawing to its inevitable end, they had an edge he would never be able to possess.

Henceforth, Ultra Magnus kept his dealings with them to an absolute minimum, only conversing with them when questioned or utterly necessary. He much preferred the company and intellect of fellow Cybertronians.

He just wished he knew what a kilt was.

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	5. Prompts 21-25

Next set. I was planning on uploading these last month, but completely forgot to do so.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 21-25:**

**PLAN  
><strong>Miko's birthday party hadn't turned out the way Bulkhead would've liked. The plan had been to surprise the girl – not for her to have known in advance. Yet, here they were, the children shoving their mouths full of what the Earthlings called _cake._ He hadn't even had the chance to set up any decorations – not that Ratchet cared for that fact in the slightest.

"It's okay, Bulk!" The girl looked over to him, smiling, mouth covered in frosting. "Besides, this is delicious!"

Bulkhead frowned. Even the dessert hadn't fully been finished – plain and simple, lacking both decorations _and _candles. Unfortunately, missions always came up at the worst of times. "Yeah, but Miko, I didn't even get the chance to get you anything. I mean, I should've at least –"

"It's fine, Bulk. Nothing needs to be fancy, and I have way too much stuff as it is. It's the thought that counts, right? You remembered it was my birthday, and that's good enough for me."

**TWISTED  
><strong>The corpses of the dead army rose in sluggish movements, the purple haze seeping out of the ground underneath them, and oozing from their threadbare frames as they were born anew. And they did not end. More and more, the dead Predacon army lurched to its feet as Megatron – no, _Unicron_, called them from their long forgotten graves. And for once, despite his best efforts, Shockwave felt an ounce of worry melt into his processor.

It had seemed at first that Megatron truly could not be vanquished, returning from death at the hands of the Autobots. But upon their Lord's return, Shockwave knew at first glance that something was amiss; Megatron's frame had changed, twisted into something that unnerved him. His suspicions were confirmed when Megatron had finally spoken, spewing words that were not of his own, but those of the Chaos Bringer_, Unicron._ Shockwave would have been lying if he didn't admit it was then that the anxiety had begun to set in. Then, with merely a wave of his servo, the dead army had risen, strong and powerful, ever growing in numbers as the kliks passed. _And they did not end._

When they suddenly turned, glowing purple from their rebirth, facing him and the Seeker with jaws full of daggers and outstretched claws, it was then Shockwave realized that Unicron had no care for the alliances Megatron had once forged. Unicron would burn Cybertron to the Pit and beyond, and the Decepticons had once again lost their leader.

**INCOMPETENT  
><strong>It was scarcely known that there was a full scale war happening between two distinct classes of the Nemesis' crew; the Drones and the Insecticons. Since the Insecticons had become full-time members of the ship's crew, the Vehicons found themselves constantly on edge around the hulking insects; they were loud, unruly, rude, and almost always got in the way. The Insecticons thought much of the same of their fellow crew mates; the Drones were skittish and weak, incompetent in any task they took on, and practically useless for their Master's cause.

This of course, led to an intense rivalry between the two serving classes – secret in nature as to not disturb or disrupt the higher ranking officers. Petty arguments and internal conflicts, closeted scuffles that ended in dented armour and minor scratches – all kept quiet in the possibility of superior backlash and Autobot Intel. Kept under wraps, the two groups were allowed to continue to antagonize the other with well-timed jabs, misplaced supplies, and sometime missing rations – all but weak discomforts in an attempt to provoke the other into something more. And sometime those 'something mores' happened.

When the Insecticons had first arrived, there were sudden major outbreaks of 'violence between crew members'; sometimes Drones would simply go missing, or would miss shifts for unexplained reasons only to end up in med bay much later. Escalation proved fatal; open brawls gave considerable repercussions, and none of them wished to be terminated. It therefore switched to a silent debacle of endless insults and hushed gossip – not helping to lower the animosity between the two groups, but certainly increasing their creativity.

**MESSAGE  
><strong>Alpha Trion's message had given him hope. Rekindled the dimming faith he had in his own leadership.

The very thought that their planet, their home, could be brought back to its former glory, revived back to life once more. They could cleanse the core of that parasitic dark substance, creating clean, consumable energon for all. No longer would they have to scavenge for supplies, fuel for their survival. No longer would they endanger the lives of the human race with their presence. _They could return home._

Now, all that remained were the shattered pieces of the Star Saber lying in his palms, causing Optimus to once again question his role in leadership.

**LULLABY  
><strong>Night had come quicker than either of them had expected. Jack suggested the changing seasons was the cause of that; the nights grew longer as summer swung on into autumn. Arcee herself thought that a sleeping bag alone would never be enough to keep him warm, and while he tried to reassure her, his ill attempt to put together the tent merely added to her skepticism.

In the end, a fire was made, and Jack wrapped himself comfortably up next to her. He'd fallen asleep without another word.

Arcee didn't want to seem overly motherly or push any boundaries, but as the stars shone in the dark, she couldn't help but be reminded of home. So, under the stars, she sang him a Cybertronian lullaby.

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><p>Reviews are love. Reviews are life.<p> 


	6. Prompts 26-30

Well, would you look at that: here's another set.

The new _TF: Robots in Disguise (2015)_ show is set to come out soon, and I have to admit, it's looking better and better with every small teaser clip I've seen. Speaking of which, I also need to catch up on the TF comics _MTMTE_ and _RiD_. I'm so far behind.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 26-30:**

**DEATH  
><strong>The vastness of the ocean pressed down upon him, and vaguely, he could feel its icy grip slowly crushing his immobile chassis. His ruined frame refused to respond, but his processor still functioned – albeit only feeding him his own dim and hazy thoughts. He was floating, far off somewhere in a realm he did not know of.

But he remembered! Remembered that he'd killed the yellow scout, Bumblebee – only to be then killed by the same Autobot. The sword had pierced his spark, had run right through him. And yet death would not come. Somehow Megatron still lived, and he silently wondered what hell he had brought upon himself this time.

And then he was moving, turning and twisting – or at least an illusion of such, as his thoughts shifted to a completely different perspective. Megatron watched, unable to do a single thing, as violet clouds swirled around him, sweeping in and forming the figure of a monster. And Megatron knew for certain he'd brought this hell upon himself – as the Chaos Bringer rose, tall and proud throughout even the darkest reaches of his mind, and consumed all.

**EVIDENCE  
><strong>Humans. Dead. Gutted and broken, their limbs strung high, dangling from web off of the cavern's ceiling. Blood mixed in with the ground, turning to a thick muddy paste, caking into the ridges of his peds. Wheeljack thought he would never see such a sight.

Wheeljack had never cared much for humans – the sole exception being Bulkhead's partner, Miko – but this, this was wrong. This was sickening, and he felt his tanks churn in response.

There was never any evidence suggesting it, but he knew this had been a Decepticon's job. Just by the feel of it, the gut feeling that Prime would never had done this. Bulkhead would never have allowed himself to. His gut instincts, he found, were usually right.

**SANITY  
><strong>One could lose their sanity after being around Soundwave for too long.

Knock Out had to agree with the drones on that one. With most of the other higher ranking Decepticons either dead or turned traitor, Knock Out was left to deal with the mute on his own.

Was he really even a mute? Knock Out had truthfully no idea. He'd never heard the Decepticon spy say a word – except the numerous recordings of others, and those didn't count for much. Not even a sigh or mumble, not a single noise of his own, other than the sound of his engines when he took off for flight. Knock Out wondered if he even had a vocalizer, but of course, neither Soundwave nor Megatron had let him come close enough to do a full scan.

It was exasperating. Anything seemed better than Soundwave's irking silence. He waited for the day when the spy would make a noise, a sound, utter something completely inconceivable. Maybe then he would seem to be among the living.

**GENTLY  
><strong>"Left! Left! I said turn left not – oh, and now you've just gone past the next turn."

Smokescreen had to admit; maybe this new home wouldn't be so bad after all. It already provided some entertainment; lots of open driving space, and a new human friend to show him the ropes of 'blending in'. It was fun to mess with the kid too, and Smokescreen revved his engine again.

"And now you've run a red – jeez, would you stop it already and listen? We're going to get pulled over by the cops at this rate!"

"The what?"

Jack sighed. "The police! Law enforcement? Listen, this is a residential area, not a speedway. You can't just drive around however you want!"

"What's the difference between the two?"

"Just don't drive like a maniac! Now, take this turn up ahead – gently, gently!"

There was nothing gentle about it; Smokescreen took a sharp turn at the last minute, hit the edge of the sidewalk, and came to a screeching halt halfway down the alley.

Jack sunk down in the driver's seat. "This is going to be harder than I first thought."

"Hey, I got the light signals down right though, didn't I?"

**TIME  
><strong>Bit by bit, Predaking was learning. Sounds, words, movements. He understood that when the gate opened it meant flight. Or food. Or prey. He understood parts of the common tongue they used. Words like stay, and attack. Sometimes the smaller beings that all looked alike would visit him, much to his amusement, and after time he'd slowly learned the meanings of what they spoke of. He did not particularly like the screeching grey being that sometimes overlooked him, but he supposed that if his Master could tolerate it, so could he.

Predaking also understood that those bearing the red symbol were his enemies, and their actions confirmed it. They'd shot at him; hit him, even going as far as recently trying to seal him away in an icy prison. They were hardly a threat, however, and they always retreated before he could finish them off. He would burn them all eventually, Predaking was certain of that. It would please Master for him to bring back their heads as a trophy, and maybe he would even be rewarded with a treat.

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><p><em>'Evidence'<em> is sort of a follow-up/continuation of _'Stain'_ prompt wise. At least to some extent.  
>They're all technically one-shots, but those prompts could certainly be seen as being linked together.<p>

Reviews are always greatly appreciated.


	7. Prompts 31-35

It's been an incredibly busy month and I still have a bunch of stuff to finish before April rolls around, so I thought that I'd better upload this set now before I don't get the chance.

Eyrmia: Thank you so much! And don't worry, I'll have all 100 posted eventually.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 31-35:**

**SPECIAL  
><strong>Airachnid was a collector. A picky collector at that, only taking the best that was offered – the ones she liked. Heads were her specialty. Out of every species she'd ever come across, she'd taken a little token of remembrance; a victim that got caught in her web would quickly lose its head. She would proudly show off her collection if anyone dared to come and view it.

Now on Earth, Airachnid found she had another gap in her collection, one she quickly wished to fill. Within her first few hours on the blue planet, Airachnid was glad that she'd found what would fill that special little void; the head of that human Arcee was so found of; Jack.

She thought his little head would make a lovely centerpiece for her collection.

**ARENA  
><strong>The arena was packed tonight, the stands full of eager spectators. The gladiatorial pits had never received this good of a turnout before, this much publicity, or as far as Soundwave was aware they hadn't. There were mechs pressed close against the cage, shoulders scrapping one another's, some in the stands craning their necks to get a better look.

They certainly weren't here for him, their line of sight made that much obvious. He hadn't expected them to be either. While he was a good fighter, and had yet to lose a match, his stunts had never been given an over amount of regard. They were here for his opponent. _Megatronus._ He had heard the name before. A rookie, moving his way quickly up the ladder, faster than anyone had done previous. He had yet to lose a match as well.

The holding gate shuddered open, and Soundwave stepped out into the light. His opponent had done the same. The crowd roared, their deafening cheer enough to give him greater vigour. He now knew why his opponent had come so far in such little time; Megatronus was huge, his build and height the very image of power. Yet, he mused, his size would also make him considerably slower.

As the bell sang for the match to begin, Soundwave lunged for the kill.

**BEATEN  
><strong>Cliffjumper dimly registered that being half-dragged by Vehicons wasn't an excellent fact. In a sluggish haze, he tried to shake them off, but found nothing would respond. Everything hurt. Without any other choice, he allowed them to continue to tow him along. The thought that he should have taken Arcee's call for backup vaguely crossed his mind, as he felt them release their hold, allowing his broken body to fail and smash his face against the floor below him.

In an attempt to gather his surroundings, Cliffjumper weakly propped himself up, the harsh light causing static at the edges of his vision. _The Nemesis_; wonderful, just what he needed. The last time he'd been in this scenario, he'd won, but as he looked up to see the Decepticon Second-in-Command's smug grin, he realized he'd been beaten.

**FIERCE  
><strong>The drones onboard the Nemesis learned quickly that the Insecticons were fierce and territorial creatures. They were, and acted, as a hive mind. If one was angry, the rest would soon follow. If one felt threatened, the others would defend against incoming possible threats. One wrong look and one of the bugs would send you hurtling through a wall. Some of the drones had already learned this the hard way.

Lately, more drones had been sent to the med bay from Insecticons than by Autobots. The Insecticons were brutish, hulking creatures, ones that weren't afraid to use their strength if Autobot or Decepticon alike, questioned their roles or usefulness.

Of course, none of this stopped the drones from whispering insults behind their backs.

**AGE  
><strong>In the last six months alone, Ratchet had noticed that the children had grown substantially. Rafael had already outgrown three pairs of shoes, while at the same time; he'd lost count of how many different pairs of pants Miko had outworn. Jack seemed to be the only one slowing down in terms of growth, and even then, he'd already noticed a slight change in his height during the past month.

Humans aged quite rapidly. They grew quickly, matured quickly, and died too quickly. Their life spans weren't even that of a fraction of a Cybertronian's. Ratchet knew it would only be a matter of time, a blink of an optic, before the kids would turn to dust.

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><p><em>Arena<em> is set pre-war. Ah, the good old gladiatorial days.

Reviews are always greatly appreciated.


	8. Prompts 36-40

Sorry for the late update! Things have been super busy for me lately and I'm super stressed.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 36-40:**

**OPTICS  
><strong>Breakdown missed his optic, no matter how often his partner sent him reassuring words of support.

_I did what I could,_ Knock Out had said. _If anything, you look more striking than you did before._

Striking? Breakdown had never thought so. He was big, burly, and half the time his own size got in his way. Knock Out didn't understand – he was sleek, elegant, and could charm anyone into a standstill if he wanted. Breakdown's only charm was his hammer.

His partner's optics were bright, a red that complimented his frame. Breakdown's were murky, a yellow he'd long learned to detest. Now, a dark patch starkly jutted from where an optic used to be. It was worse that it had been before, and Breakdown missed the other square of gold that had once stared back.

"It looks fine, now, stop moaning and help buff me."

Well, maybe he didn't miss it _that_ badly.

**STRENGTH  
><strong>Bulkhead watched with a mixture of horror and queasiness as the Insecticon in front of him melted before his optics. Metal corroded away, deteriorating down to bare protoform, bubbling and foaming as the beast screamed. The pod it had touched had opened wide, smoking green with the pale glow of what had carefully been tucked inside. Eventually, the creature's cries died away, the only sound the sizzling of its ruined chassis, and for once Bulkhead was grateful that Miko hadn't tagged along. The sight alone was enough to make him nauseous.

Gingerly, Bulkhead stepped around the carcass, moving to look at the relic he'd been sent to secure – one he expected was more dangerous than any of the other the Team had encountered so far. And he was right; _Tox-En_, a highly concentrated form of energon crystal that had the lethal strength and reputation of killing and poisoning hundreds of thousands. And here it was, right in front of him. On Earth. Oh, he was glad Miko wasn't here.

If the Decepticons got their greedy servos on it, they would all be dead sooner or later. If MECH or another questionable human organization did, he expected the same outcome. If he took it back to the Team, it would only mean a slow death from its toxicity for all of them. Either way, he was slagged. Oooh, this was so bad. The only thing he could do was destroy it – that was the only option he could think of, and even that didn't sound too promising.

Bulkhead looked around, remembering where he was. There was a volcano somewhere in the area, right? Would that be enough? But he had little time to think, choosing to take the lethal relic and run, as the sound on the horizon spoke of more Insecticons. Ones that would find their fallen brethren.

**TIRED  
><strong>The Autobot was weak. Pathetic. Hardly a challenge and not even worth the effort to be put down. It irritated him to have to deal with this flimsy creature, instead of hunting down stronger prey. But the Autobot had challenged him, and Hardshell never refused nor backed down from a good fight. He only wished that the fight was an actual decent one, and not the lacking mess it had turned out to be.

Again, the white Autobot struggled to get up, energon dripping from the corners of his mouth, exhausted, feebly stretching to reach his weapons. Staggering, the Autobot lunged for him, both swords unsheathed with a loud yell. Hardshell parried his attacks with ease, striking the weary Autobot to the ground. He was getting tired of this, and it was time to end the fight he had already won. It was a pity his brothers wouldn't see this victory.

Still defiant to the end, the Autobot spat at him, only causing Hardshell to forbid him any last minute mercy. He rose, preparing to deal the final blow – only; he didn't see the shot coming until it was too late.

**DREAMS  
><strong>Starscream didn't dream very often. When he did, nightmares were common, and it was normal for them to abruptly awaken him from his recharge. It was a rare occurrence for him to have peaceful dreams, dreams that could be defined as happy ones. When they did occur, they were always of the past. Of his home. Of Vos and its beautiful towers that spiralled high into the sky. Of familiar faces and friends, all of whom were long lost over the course of the war. Of his trinemates and former partner.

It was these dreams that left him to awaken with coolant streaming from his optics more times over than the nightmares ever did.

**COMPLICATED  
><strong>Despite the look of pure boredom that played over the features of the young girl, Ultra Magnus only cemented his position, keeping his tone firm. "You cannot simply venture through the halls of the base without any supervision. You could potentially get lost, and if one of you were to get injured, none of us would know nor be able to help you."

The girl merely glared at him, repeating her earlier argument. "We were allowed to go anywhere we wanted in the old base, as long as we asked first. Alone too!"

Her younger companion had kept silent throughout the whole ordeal, and Magnus observed he was thoroughly more disciplined than she. Magnus, however, had heard quite enough. "This is not the "old" base and the rules have changed. I will not permit you to freely roam the base without the proper supervision, no matter what anyone else has told you previously."

"Why don't you just come with us?"

"I do not have the time to do so, as I am currently dealing with complicated matters."

There was a pause before the girl spoke again. "…Like what?"

Primus, it was going to be a long day.

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	9. Prompts 41-45

Two updates in one month? I must be nuts.

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 41-45:**

**STORM  
><strong>The small makeshift laboratory he'd set up for himself, hidden far from prying optics amongst Cybertron's wreckage, shook and shuddered from the force of the gale that swept by overhead. Every howl of the wind sent the lights flickering almost to a standstill, and Shockwave was finding it difficult to concentrate. He'd found himself working on the formula for the proper CNA strand for what seemed to be eons now, and if the lights held for just long enough he could finish it before the day was done.

Logically of course, he would have no such luck, as the lights above him died and the glow of the generator kicked in. Its red glow flickered through the underground shack he and the Seeker now called home, casting harsh shadows on the walls around them. He doubted Starscream had noticed a thing either – curled up on the floor, his back towards him, deep in recharge. At least one of them was getting some rest through the seething storm, and Shockwave silently cursed its timing: he found he could no longer see his sample.

They`d been hopping from hideout to hideout, taking shelter from the Autobots where they could, all while they combed through his long maze of hidden laboratories. This one was unsuitable, no longer functional due to its proximity to the surface`s unstable conditions.

He looked back to the slumbering Seeker, watching as Starscream's wings twitched in their uncomfortable position. Recharge seemed to be the only option either of them had at this point, and Shockwave concluded they would move on once the storm had passed.

**VACANT  
><strong>The vacant expression in Optimus' optics struck Ratchet down to the core. _It genuinely terrified him._ No response or expression, just the glow of the Star Saber in his optics. It worried him.

They'd only gotten Optimus back from Megatron's clutches a short time ago, and they were still trying to repair the damage that event had caused. Emotionally and psychologically wise – for Ratchet at least. They didn't need this. Not now. Not when things were this close to being over.

"Optimus, _Optimus speak to me._"

He'd lost Optimus once to Megatron, and it had been their darkest hour. He was not about to lose Optimus again – especially not to a stupid, glowing sword.

**MISERABLE  
><strong>Smokescreen learned quickly that there were only so many things to do while at the base. Fighting Decepticons was nothing like he thought it would be. Sometimes they'd pick up a vague signal, investigate, and find nothing. Sometimes they'd go for weeks without picking up any 'Con activity at all. Primus, was it boring! He'd been expecting excitement, a constant stream of battle where he could improve his skills. Instead he was sitting around and staring at an uneven ceiling, waiting for someone else to get back from patrol.

And it wasn't like there was anything he could do either. There were only so many times one could go for a drive until they'd reached the boundaries set in place. Transforming outside the base was usually a definite no, and the base itself only had a limited amount of space when everyone was cooped up inside (especially with an angry Ratchet). The kids were great to hang out with when they were around, but that all depended on school (and from what he'd heard, it was more of a torture house than an academy of learning) and whether or not they were spending time with their respective guardians.

But Smokescreen found himself to be even more miserable than usual, and he blamed it on the fact he was bored out of his processor. He let out a long, suffering groan, earning a look from their Medic.

"You could always help me clean up around here if you have nothing better to do."

Smokescreen only groaned again.

**CURIOUS  
><strong>"Breakdown, what are you doing?"

His partner turned to him, a stupid grin plastered on his faceplates, golden optics alight with sparkling-like excitement. He motioned for him to advance. "Come on, look!"

Skeptically, he did so, peering over the ledge and down onto the mass below. Humans, gathered in their vehicles, all aligned in front of a large blank viewing screen. A stand was set up a little ways away, glowing with changing neon bright colours in the darkness. What were they doing? Was it some sort of strange ritual?

"Just wait and watch." Breakdown flipped into his vehicle mode, coaxing the medic to do the same.

"Breakdown, what's going on?"

"Listen."

Curious, he finally did, hearing the faint sounds of engines winding down, the headlights from the vehicles below dying. The yellow stand in the distance darkened its neon sign and he watched as the blank screen suddenly lit-up, a reel of moving images beginning to play. Knock Out was still confused, as images gave the appearance to jump off the screen and attack the audience. A human horror film? Really?

"Breakdown…"

"Quiet – it's started. Just sit back and enjoy."

With a huff of compliance he faced the screen, watching as a human fleshling erupted into screams, mowed down by an obviously false creature. As long as one of them was happy – and who knew, perhaps it would be interesting after all.

**PROTECT  
><strong>He had failed. He cradled the child as gently as he could in the palms of his servos, the young boy no longer conscious. A low whimper escaped his vocalizer before he could stop it, and Bumblebee found himself shaking. Raf was pale, his skin clammy and grey. He had failed. He was the boy's guardian. He had sworn to protect and keep Rafael safe, and he had failed.

The shot of dark energon had only stunned his systems, temporarily sending him into a forced stasis for a matter of kliks. Bumblebee hadn't thought of the consequences of having Raf with him at the time. The dark substance had poisoned his friend, sending the boy's small body into obvious distress. By the time Bumblebee had onlined again, the boy was already out cold and getting worse by the minute.

He had failed in his duties, his sworn oath of protection, and now had no idea what to do. Gingerly, he brought the boy closer to his chassis, and quickly moved to find Optimus.

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	10. Prompts 46-50

Sorry for the late update! Things have been super busy and I'm super stressed.

But wow look, we're halfway there!  
>Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far. You guys are great. :)<p>

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 46-50:**

**DARKNESS  
><strong>Silence had always been a comfort in a world of noise, a sense of peace throughout the sounds of war, and a tool he'd long learned to use to his advantage. Now he wanted noise, he wanted sound, anything that would break the listless silence that Soundwave now found himself in. In this other realm, he was confined to the boundaries of the once proud ship, and the perpetual darkness that threatened to cave in around him. Here, Soundwave had learnt he could no longer transmit to any of the ship's controls, or to any other being for that matter. The Autobots had long moved on, and the shadows had begun to play on the walls of the emptied Nemesis.

He watched, unable to do a thing, as they took over the ship, over Cybertron itself. He'd witnessed as they'd murdered his Lord, only for Megatron to be miraculously revived to fight again. And then Megatron had gone, left them all behind. Soundwave had watched just as he had before; silent, but now apprehensive, from the windows of the central bridge. He saw everything, watching from a world where no one could see nor hear him.

Laserbeak shuddered against him and Soundwave stroked the edges of the symbiote's wings as a form of comfort, absentmindedly beginning to hum a tune that had once drifted through the brief stillness of the arenas. At this stage, Soundwave knew it wouldn't be long until his energon levels hit critical, and the shadows that forced themselves onto the walls and ceiling were becoming more and more apparent.

**MUSIC  
><strong>Unlike Miko's sometimes shrill, grating choices of songs, Jack, Optimus found, had an ear for much calmer music. Softer and gentler music, some of which, Optimus greatly enjoyed. Whenever Jack felt the need to play his music through speakers, Optimus couldn't help but always listen in.

Each and every song held its own style and tune, there was a great variety to choose from, and every once in a while there was a melody that left him completely enthralled. They reminded him of a simpler time, a time before the war, and he gladly put their words to memory for future reference.

**SUNRISE  
><strong>She awoke to warmth, a dry, brittle substance that tickled her vents and made her cough. Groggily onlining her optics, Arcee looked around, finding Cliffjumper sitting on the outstretched rock formation beside her, his legs dangling over the edge.

This new planet they had escaped to was odd – and so far, Arcee found it held little appeal. The desert they found themselves stationed in was a never ending, barren expanse of heat and bright light, and neither of them had managed to find any source of life other than themselves during their travels through it. Why in Primus' name would Optimus Prime choose this of all places as a safe haven?

"You awake yet, sleepyhead?"

Arcee groaned in response, stretching as she got up. "Cliffjumper, it's still dark out."

Satisfied, he flashed a grin her way. "True, but if you don't get your aft up and moving you'll miss the sunrise before it even starts."

She only rolled her optics, gently nudging him as he shuffled over. "How many suns does this planet have anyways?"

"Just the one, I gather."

"Feels more like there's twenty."

Minutes later it began; the first streaks of colour against the horizon, the air warming up as light broke through. Pinks, purples, and vivid oranges patterned the sky as the golden tendrils stretched as far as they could, the sun finally peaking. Then it spread, down over the land and across their frames.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Silently, Arcee couldn't help but agree.

**AUTHORITY  
><strong>Wheeljack liked to work alone. He did things his way, or no way at all. He tackled things on his own time and seldom listened to his superiors. The concept of authority never sat well in his vocabulary, but if forced, the definition would be that of Ultra Magnus.

Ultra Magnus was the very embodiment of everything he couldn't stand; control, militant discipline, and a strict obsession with regulations that could bore an Insecticon to death. Ultra Magnus had been one of the reasons as to why he had left the Wreckers in the first place, and here he was again after all this time, his words droning on as Magnus once again denounced him for his actions.

Sure, Wheeljack mused, he knew he was a loose cannon, but at least he got things done.

**DOUBTFUL  
><strong>"But why, brother?" Skyquake's admission had left Dreadwing reeling, and he struggled to compose himself before he continued. "Why go through such a process when things are fine as they are? Don't we function better together, as a team, than alone?"

"Things may seem fine now, Dreadwing, but I fear they will grow worse in time. Before long the Autobots will plan and execute another strike, and our Lord will need strong and competent soldiers for the future. By sending a number of us off world in stasis pods, it will help to ensure victory."

Dreadwing understood all of this of course. "But why you, brother? Couldn't they have sent someone else?"

"I volunteered."

_"What?"_

_"_I want to go. It is an honour to serve Lord Megatron in such a fashion, even if that won't be for a period of time. It is a method of proving my worth."

"But you are a warrior – we are both warriors; there is more honour in that than anything else! If anything, you have proven yourself twice over. You are needed here."

Skyquake merely shook his head. "No, brother, _you_ are needed here. I am not. At least not to the same degree." At the other Seeker's doubtful expression, Skyquake raised a hand to his shoulder. "One day I will explain, and then you will understand."

He never did.

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	11. Prompts 51-55

I keep forgetting I have these things tucked away somewhere in my hard-drive. Plus, life's been hell and keeps getting busier.  
>I also haven't checked my file in Animal Crossing in forever. All my favourite villagers have probably move out by now. :(<p>

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 51-55:**

**RETREAT  
><strong>The sudden loss of energon from his wounds went right to his head, and the next thing Megatron knew was that he had crumpled to the ground, directly in front of Optimus Prime's peds. He hadn't fought an Insecticon in so long – or any other creature similar for that matter. He'd gone soft, ill-prepared for what he'd expected Airachnid to throw at him. Either that or his age was finally catching up on him. Whatever it was, the end of the Prime's gun barrel fuzzily coming into view was not something he wanted pressed up against his faceplates.

"So, tell me Optimus: do you intend to take me alive? Or end this here and now?"

Still in pain and vision still somewhat hazy, even Megatron could see the end of the barrel light up in obvious meaning. So that was how it was going to be.

…But no such shot came. Optimus was hesitating, and it would cost him – for not a moment later, reinforcements arrived. Megatron mused that it has taken them long enough. Dreadwing's tactics, while not something he would settle for, provided enough of a distraction.

"Dreadwing may have given you his word, but I did not give you mine! Decepticons, attack!"

It was enough. He hated to admit it, but while he was still weak and in no condition to fight, a retreat was in order. The blaster fire of the Drones gave him enough cover to transform and take off, Dreadwing following suit not far behind.

**FOREIGN  
><strong>There was something foreign flooding her energon lines, seeping in and overtaking any coherent thoughts she had – and by the time her systems identified the substance, it was already too late. Airachnid felt light and airy, and swore her senses had suddenly been heightened. She had noticed it earlier, after she had cornered and killed Silas (or whatever remains of an abomination he had been), and it was only now kicking in and causing some effect to her. _It was invigorating._ An exhilarating sensation that rushed from her processor to her peds, and filled her with even greater vigour.

Now, as she faced Soundwave before her, she felt invincible. She rallied her Insecticon army with nothing but a brief thought, and cried out an attack. But before she herself could land a hit on her silent enemy, she found out he'd already been one step ahead of her. A mere step forward and a space bridge opened before her, sucking Airachnid and her army far away, and closing before she had time to react.

Now Airachnid saw stars and space above her and felt fury in her spark. She found herself on one of Cybertron's moons – just as barren as the plant itself.

Now there was an itch in her systems. The exhilaration was gone, leaving her tired and weak, and so very hungry. She'd burnt through her energon reserves faster than she'd expected, and an instinctual drive pounded in her processor. Energon. It was the only thing she could think of, and she yearned for its sweet smell. She could taste it on her glossa, and looking at her loyal army, she knew they would serve her well. Arms reaching out, Airachnid beckoned them one by one to their deaths.

**GRATITUDE  
><strong>Breakdown hadn't expected the Nemesis to be in such need of repairs, but apparently the Autobot intruders had done more damage to the warship than they'd previously believed. Broken panels, cracked screens, sudden faulty wiring, and blaster scorch marks that would take forever to clean off. It would be a fun orn of restoration. And they'd put him in charge of it all (well, first Starscream, then Soundwave, _and now_ himself).

Of course it wasn't the hardest thing to be done, labour intensive but easier done with the help of the Vehicons - but it took forever. Another problem was supplies. While the Decepticons were certainly better off than the Autobots, supplies and rations weren't what they used to be, and Breakdown found he was using whatever saved leftover reserves he had to re-wire a simple console.

And it wasn't as if the Vehicons were having an easier time at it. It was in their nature to be tasked with any challenge, even the ones they couldn't overcome, and in the last few minutes alone Breakdown had almost watched them accidently knock each other over while replacing panels. Those had been two separate incidents, but the third resulted in actually knocking a Drone clean off its peds. And Breakdown sighed, knowing the issue simply wouldn't go and resolve itself.

Breakdown moved to help the poor Vehicon up, and swore the Drone wore an expression of gratitude, despite the standard issue mask covering their faceplates. "Thank you, sir!"

"No problem. Come on, let's take a break and grab a cube before anything else goes wrong."

**NEUTRAL  
><strong>In a war, it was never safe to be on your own. That's why Seekers formed trines. You were safer in a group. You were never alone that way either.

Going solo had been the stupidest thing he had ever done. Starscream realized that now. Turning his back on both fractions, playing them off each other in an attempt to gain something out of it, staying Neutral for the longest time he possibly could. It had been a stupid, stupid thing to do. And now look where that had gotten him; no T-Cog, no energon, and not one single friend to come to his aid. Only enemies. All he had ever made was enemies.

If he were to die now, no one would care. The war would continue, both fractions warring themselves into oblivion. He wouldn't be missed by anyone. It was then he realized that neither side would have cared if he had died in the first place anyhow.

**OVERWHELM  
><strong>When Arcee's expression had suddenly turned blank and her optics had lost their knowing gleam - an unresponsive, never ending gaze housing instead in those blue depths -Cliffjumper's spark had lurched painfully in its chamber.

He struggled against the restraints as a wave of panic threatened to overwhelm him. "Arcee?" She didn't respond, limp against her own bindings, her optics still vacant.

He tried again, concern leaking into his tone. "_Arcee?_" She would not move.

"She will not wake until I am done with her." The Cyclops no longer faced them, instead turned to a monitor at their side, the device still firmly attached to the back of his helm. "Only when the necessary information is extracted will I then relinquish my hold."

_"What have you done to her?"_

"If there is insufficient data or she does not survive the process, I will continue it with you."

Primus, he had to do something. Cliffjumper tested the restraints again, trying to find some sort of catch or fold, only to cry out as a high voltage of electricity ravaged his frame. It left him weak and disoriented.

The scientist merely glanced over. "If you do not yield, I will be forced to use more dire methods of persuasion."

Cliffjumper leaned back against the berth in frustration, clearing the static filling his vision. Moments later, his partner moaned, her optics flickering in an attempt to online. "Arcee?"

Shockwave moved to rip the device from her helm, now advancing towards him. Cliffjumper swore there was a sense of morbid curiosity dwelling in the scientist's stance alone.

"Insufficient data; the process will continue."

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><p>Reviews are always greatly appreciated.<p> 


	12. Prompts 56-60

Wow, holy cow - it's my last post of 2015! Jeez, the year flew by. Well, onwards to 2016 - and thanks to all those who've stuck with me so far!

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><p><strong>Transformers Prime: 100 Written Prompts Challenge<br>**From war to peace, and everything in-between.

**Prompts 56-60:**

**ACID  
><strong>The spider had caught her off guard this time, and Arcee now had the wounds to remind her of her error, the stupidity of her judgement. Intakes laboured, she slid into the grotto under an old oak tree, its monstrous roots large enough to conceal her for the time being. She tried to comm. Ratchet for a ground bridge, the others for backup - only finding that both lines had been jammed. Just her luck.

The two-wheeler slumped to her knees in exhaustion, gingerly removing her arm from her side to peek at the damage. The acid had burnt right through her armour plating, creating a fist-sized hole in her side. The blackened corrosion throbbed with every movement she made, effectively bringing her to a standstill. Arcee suspected the acid was eating away at a fuel line; energon leaked down from the wound, dripping onto her legs and thighs. She'd probably gone and leaked a nice bloody trail for Airachnid to follow.

There was a rustling from the entrance, and the spider spun down the greet her.

"Ah, Arcee. What a lovely little, surprise visit. I didn't know you cared so much about me."

Just her luck.

**REVOLUTION  
><strong>The drones were curious creatures, and having spent vorns under Megatron's iron fist of commandment, it would be assumed they were unquestioningly loyal. To a certain extent, they were; they followed orders without verbal question, took to the battlefield without encouragement, and joined the Allspark all for the glory of the Decepticon cause. However, they had also given themselves names, personal designations for themselves other than the mere numbers and code they'd each been given upon creation. With the little free time they received, they searched through airways and radio channels, preying upon what the humans considered entertainment. Television was deemed a popular and favourite choice amongst them.

Private Decepticon frequencies filled with their constant chatter, and sometimes even their doubts. The beginning uncertainties had been dismissed at first, purged without a second thought. They were Decepticons and Megatron was all knowing. Soon the doubts always lingered in the airwaves - not a popular discussion, but still always there. Lingering on the outskirts of popular opinion.

Eventually as the number of remaining Decepticon officers began to diminish, the moral amongst them became a well-known subject, whether they knew it or not. It crept into other conversations, other topics without awareness, becoming something of a daily occurrence between them. An unconscious revolution between them that sparked something they could all agree on. Suddenly, Megatron wasn't the only possibility available.

**FEWER  
><strong>Optimus knew something was wrong. Standing silently next to Cliffjumper's makeshift memorial, he looked to the vastness of the desert's midnight sky, staring to where the stars once were.

It was always calming, he found, almost reassuring to view the twinkling lights of the distant planets and suns that surrounded them – one of the many things Earth had in common with Cybertron. Many of the constellations had changed, but there were many that he could still recognize, patterns his optics could pinpoint to their exact locations in Cybertronian skies. What concerned him was that certain stars were beginning to burn out, disappear from the darkness of the night sky.

It was normal, of course, for stars to eventually burn out and for new ones to be born, but over the course of the last few weeks, Optimus had seen too many blink out of existence for the circumstances to be considered normal ones. One by one, each night they began to disappear, becoming fewer and far in between. Amongst it all, as if making room in the darkened hues, was the glow of six silhouettes; the planetary alignment.

The Primes before him had passed down many tales of the Chaos Bringer, and Optimus knew what the stars above him foretold, no matter how unlikely it all seemed. As another star flickered and died, Optimus worried of what was to come.

**HURT  
><strong>When Bulkhead had awoken from stasis, Miko had immediately rushed to see him (despite Ratchet's many attempts to stop her), automatically expressing her joy and recounting what he'd missed. And boy, he'd missed a lot, apparently. What stuck out the most - and worried him the most for that matter - was the entire mission bent upon getting revenge. A mission to deliberately seek out and kill Hardshell. It didn't surprise him that Wheeljack had been involved; his friend had been known to embark on similar personal vendettas before, especially during his time with the Wreckers.

What bothered him was Miko's involvement. The children were already too caught up in their war as it was, and he didn't want them pulled into it any further. What made things worse was that he'd been told that Miko had been the one to kill Hardshell, and not Wheeljack. And her reaction to it horrified him; there was no reaction at all. Miko expressed no emotion when discussing her actions, nor did it seem she had reflected upon them at all.

A kill was a kill, Insecticon or not – Bulkhead's first kill had left him in a state of shock for deca-cycles afterwards, until he'd had to do so again to survive. Miko's nonchalant take on the situation only caused Bulkhead to grow more concerned, even more so when the others were more anxious of his injured state of being than the mental state of their young human friend.

It still hurt to move, and Bulkhead found his legs were almost unresponsive. He knew it would take a long time to fully recover, but Bulkhead was more worried about Miko's recovery than his own.

**IGNITE  
><strong>They had lied to him. And once again, he had been a fool to believe them. The scent of his brethren on Cybertron still lingered in the planet's age old atmosphere - and now that he was on its surface, it had only grown stronger. He knew the smell of the long deceased of his kind, and this was nowhere near the faint whispered scents of the dead. His brothers were still alive. Predaking did not know how many nor where they were, but their scents were distinct, fresh, and new.

Just as Megatron had done to him – restrained him, indoctrinated him, and kept him in servitude – he was now doing to more of his people. And it angered him, enough to ignite the sparks already crawling up his throat, and he forced them down with bitter scorn. He was King, and they were his! Not Megatron's or any other traitorous Decepticon's!

Finally, Predaking let the flames erupt within him, raising his head to the sky and burning the high heavens above. He didn't know where on Cybertron they were, but no doubt his people would recognize a beacon.

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><p>Was it just me, or was it a little weird that the fact that Miko killed someone never turned out to have any consequences whatsoever? She literally blew someone up? But y'know, it's okay, because it's just an Insecticon right?<p>

Reviews are always greatly appreciated.


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